


Further Than the Grave

by mtwalker



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: But Nothing Insane, F/M, I mean, major character death isn't like... huge, so there's stuff there, there's a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mtwalker/pseuds/mtwalker
Summary: While closing the bar, Jasper meets a mysterious woman.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Charlotte/Peter (Twilight)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 9
Collections: Jalice Week 2020





	Further Than the Grave

“I’m telling’ ya, man. We’ve got ourselves a ghost. I’m certain of it.” Jasper rolled his eyes, wiping off the last in the long line of glasses that were lined along the back of the bar. He’d been hearing this sort of thing from Peter all week, ever since his fiancee’s bracelet had “mysteriously” disappeared. Jasper didn’t have the heart to tell him, once again, that ghosts were just something people believed in to make themselves feel more “enlightened.” Besides, if his friend really believed the bar was haunted, maybe it would bring in more customers. They could use some new faces around here.

“Look, you can tell me all about these ghosts once you finish up everything in the back office. I’d like to get home before 5, if that’s fine with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter waved a hand, moving towards their shared office, “You just finish up here. I’ve got a couple ideas.” That made Jasper nervous. Any idea of Peters’, no matter how well-meaning, usually ended in Jasper having to pick up the pieces. His friend was easily excitable, a quality that Jasper often admired, but one of them had to be the level-headed part of their duo. He sighed, turning away from the last of the glasses before spotting someone sitting at the bar.

“Sorry, ma’am. Didn’t see ya there.” Jasper stared at her curiously. He’d never seen someone like her here before, he was certain. She had a face that he was sure to remember, with a small, pointed chin and wide brown eyes. Her red-lipped smile curled as he spoke, her pale skin stark against the black dress she was wearing. Everything about her drew his attention. “I’m afraid we’re closed, so I’mma have to ask you to leave.” She stared at him, blinking, but made no movement to get up from the barstool. He frowned slightly, moving around the front of the bar. He hated having to be more forceful with guests, but rules were rules, after all.

As he moved past the column at the edge of the bar, he was startled to find the stool empty. He reached forward, running a hand along the smooth leather, and found it cold. A chill ran down his spine, but he chose to ignore it. No. Ghosts weren’t real. He just needed to get more sleep, that was all. He let out a shaky breath, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“Ready?” The voice behind him made Jasper jump, smacking his arm on the wooden counter of the bar. He cursed, turning back towards Peter, who was giving him an odd look. “What was all that about?”

“Nothin’. Just distracted, I guess.” Peter shrugged, moving to grab a glass from behind the bar. “Hey!” Jasper shook himself back to reality, “I just washed those!”

“Just look, will ya?” He flipped the glass over, spreading a layer of salt on the counter. He sat the glass upside down on the salt and gestured to it smugly, as if he had done something impressive.

“Congrats. You’ve made more of a mess. Can we go home now?”

“Don’t be so sour, lemon-mouth.” Peter gestured again to the salty cup. “See if anything, like maybe a _ghost_ , were to move this here cup, we’d be able to tell ‘cus of the salt.”

“Why would a ghost move an upside down cup?”

Peter threw his arms up in the air. “I don’t know the ways of the supernatural, Jazz. Ghosts move stuff. Them’s the facts.” Jasper chuckled, shaking his head in defeat.

“Alright, alright. Just help me get the rest of this closed up, ‘kay?”

—————————————

Nothing had moved the glass, much to Peter’s disappointment, and no strange girl had reappeared. In the end, he hadn’t even bothered to tell Peter about her. There was no point in encouraging any more of this ghost business, and it wasn’t like Jasper was curious about her. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He ignored the sinking feeling when another night went by without the tiny, brown-haired girl sitting at the bar smiling at him. If he really had just made her up, how cruel must his own mind be to create such an intoxicating illusion. The curiosity in her eyes, the curve of her lips, it was carved into his memory.

It had been a week since he had seen her. Imagined her. He wasn’t sure anymore. He had been sweeping up after close, stacking chairs on tables as he went by, when he felt it. A soft brush against his shoulders, like thin fingers running along the fabric of his shirt. He turned slightly, brushing it off when he saw no one. He must be imagining things again. Minutes later, however, he felt it again. A slim hand running gently down the center of his back. He turned on his heel, looking back at the empty bar. Jasper liked to think he wasn’t a skittish man, but he couldn’t deny the nervous energy that buzzed through him.

“Anyone there?” He called, his eyes scanning the bar for signs of movement.

“Hello, cowboy.” He felt the heat of whomever’s breath against his ear, making him turn again. Still no one. He slowly leaned the broom against the wall, unsure of whether or not he should tell Peter. On one hand, his friend would be thrilled to have a resurgence of ghost-interest. On the other, he still wasn’t sure what this was. Or, for that matter, if he wanted Peter looking into it at all. He turned back, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Standing in the middle of the bar, looking exactly as she had a week ago, was his mystery girl. Same curious eyes. Same grin. Same soft, brown hair. But this time she was the one to make the first move. She stepped silently across the wooden floor, a feat Jasper knew to be impossible on such old boards. She came to a stop in front of him, looking up through dark eyelashes. He felt drawn to her in a way he couldn’t explain, as if she were some missing piece he had been looking for. Her hand brushed across his cheek, feeling almost intangible and ice cold. He shivered, but leaned closer to her. Standing on the tips of her toes, she pressed a kiss to his lips. He responded immediately, feeling like a man possessed. His arms wrapped around her, holding her cold form flush to his chest. Her fingers slid up through his blonde curls, pulling him in deeper. The chill of her ran through him, shocking his system and making the world around her seem clearer. She pulled back, looking him in the eye, and whispered, “Find me. Please.”

Just as suddenly as she was there, she was gone. There was a hollow feeling left in her wake, and Jasper found himself trying to absorb what she had said. Find her? What could that mean?

———————————————

It had been a month since his last encounter. That was what he had taken to calling it, at least to himself. He still hadn’t mentioned the girl to Peter. There wasn’t a point in it. The next morning, he had dived deep into the internet, looking for anything he could find on ghosts and unfinished business. There had been a lot of differing opinions, but most came to the conclusion that a spirit would be released after their “business” had been resolved. Who was he to ignore her request? He was nothing if not a gentleman, after all.

Finding a girl that he only had a vague description of proved to be as difficult as he had expected. The first few days had been simply scrolling through page after page of obituaries, hoping for anything that resembled his mysterious ghost, but to no avail. He had made a huge breakthrough when he had found a napkin on the counter while closing with the name “Alice” scrawled across it and Peter’s fiancee’s bracelet placed gently on top.

It had been another week before he had found her. Having the name was only the beginning. He had to find the right Alice, after all. Her obituary had been small and unassuming, crammed between two longer paragraphs. He had found this sight heartbreaking, but it was nothing compared to the psych records he stumbled upon days later. The pictures included confirmed his fears that this was, in fact, the same Alice. Her face became more sunken and hollow as he flipped through page after page of “treatments”, some with accompanying notes from her. She started off coherent, writing about what she called her “visions.” He watched that coherence fade, her sentences getting shorter and more broken the further in he got. The last page, however, chilled him to the bone. Scratched over and over was just one word, written in a hurried panic.

_Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper Jasper_

———————————————-

“I knew you would do it.” She smiled, standing at the edge of the bar.

“Alice,” Jasper breathed, moving towards her. She closed the distance, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face into his chest.

“I saw you. Before, I mean.”

“I know,” he whispered, pulling her a little closer, “I’m glad you did.” She looked up at him, her eyes so full of adoration he thought he would burst. She grabbed his collar, pulling him down to her, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t forget me.”

“I won’t.”

She was gone. Jasper stood alone, his back against the bar, staring across the empty room.

———————————————

Alice had been gone for three months. There was a part of Jasper that wondered if she had ever been there to begin with. There wasn’t any evidence of her, not really. Some old newspaper clippings that sat on the edge of his desk at home. Scraps of notebook paper with drawing sketched along the margins of a girl with wide eyes watching his every move.

Peter had stopped talking about the bar being haunted, clapping Jasper on the shoulder and telling him that he had “won this one.” Funny, Jasper didn’t feel like he had won anything. That hollow feeling still sat in the center of his chest, waiting to be filled by someone who would never return.

He was ducked behind the bar, restocking the mixers while Peter was going over the books in the back office, when he heard the door creak open. “Bar’s closed!” He called, not wanting to get up. He paused, listening for the sound of the door, and groaned when it never came. He pulled himself up, dusting off his jeans with a tired look on his face. “I said-”

“Hello, cowboy.” She leaned forward on the edge of the bar, grinning that intoxicating grin of hers. “You’re not gonna believe this, but-”

He didn’t give her time to respond, reaching across the bar to pull her lips against his. “Alice,” he whispered against her mouth, making her giggle against the kiss.

“You remember me.”

“How could I ever forget you?”


End file.
